Pass the Sauce

The guys were glad to settle down in front of their fake fireplace late one Sunday evening. It had been a tiring day. They sat silently and comfortably for a while before the inevitable discussion began – as it just had to.

“Well you should be happier than you are, Baby,” Brian grinned at the kid. “Your most dreaded day of the year is over – for another year – and you didn’t drown or anything ….”

“Well I guess I didn’t actually drown – but maybe I anythinged – I think maybe I did. There’s more than one way to drown, Bri,” Justin pointed out, “And any day on the rivers with the Mallards, the Trouts and the Herrings et al is a kind of slow death so ….”

“Well I think the only reason we get invited is because of you, Sweetheart,” Brian accused, “so the whole thing is your fault. You’re always doing some work for them. If you weren’t always so sweet and helpful ….”

“Hey, Kinney,” Justin countered, “I only met the Fish Brigade because you got us invited. Herring was a client of yours – and he still is, I think, so …..”

“That may be true, Kiddo,” Brian laughed, “but you know how obnoxious I am. I’d never get invited back – not the way I am. But you’re so lovable – that’s why we keep getting invited back – like four or five years now – and geez – you’ve painted just about everything they own for them – the dogs – the boat. All their houses look like Justin Taylor art exhibits ….”

“Wait a darn minute, Kinney,” Justin objected. “If you think I’m gonna say you aren’t obnoxious just to win an argument, you’re very wrong. You know how I always stand up for the truth. And if you think I’m gonna deny how lovable I am, you’re really wrong again. So I think the best thing I could do at this moment is to call a time-out ….”

“OK, Taylor,” Brian laughed, “I must be winning. But there’s like – only so many time-outs allowed in a given argument and then you run out ….”

“We’ll just see about that, BK,” Justin laughed back at him. “Maybe I can convince you to allow unlimited time-outs as needed ….”

“Well you’re free to try that if you want to, Blondie,” Brian smirked. “If you think you could ….”

And Justin must have tried because – at any rate – when the discussion resumed – the subject of limited time-outs was not broached.

“You know what, Honey?” Brian eventually re-opened the discussion. “You ate your usual several plates of spaghetti – and you always rave about how good Mrs. Herring’s sauce is – and you brought a jar of it home with you as usual – and on top of that, Brandon and Jason were along today – so that should have made the whole thing a lot better ….”

“Oh yeah, Mr. Brian Kinney,” Justin recalled. “You had to tell them about Brandon - and then he did some legal work for them last winter so now they’re invited too ….”

“Are you telling me you’re mad because Jason and Brandon were there, Baby? I thought that would be a pleasant surprise.” Brian seemed surprised himself. “You like Jason and Brandon ….”

“Well I usually do, Brian,” Justin agreed, “but Jason was so obsequious and all today – mewling about how good the spaghetti was - and the sauce ….”

“I’ll admit he ate almost as much as you, JT,” Brian laughed, “but surely you didn’t want to eat even more. There was still some left over so ….”

“The sauce, Brian,” Justin pointed out. “The sauce. Jason took a big jar of it home with him ….”

“A jar of sauce which would otherwise have come to you ….” Brian laughed harder. “Like the deceased aunt’s hat that should have come to Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady and was figuratively snatched right off her head by some other and less deserving heir ….”

“Well if a great writer like George Bernard Shaw can see a problem there,” Justin declared, “why do you think it’s so darn funny?”

“You know what, Sweetheart,” Brian was still laughing. “I can’t stop laughing – so maybe I’d like to call a time-out. OK?”

“As long as you remember that the number of time-outs is limited,” Justin laughed too. “When they’re gone, they’re gone ….”

“Unless ….” Brian began but slipped into the actual time-out without finishing his declaration.

“Maybe I shouldn’t ask, Taylor,” Brian did the resuming thing again – after a time-out of fairly long duration, “but what did you think of the folk music playing today? You liked Susanna and Lucius last year when they did the Stephen Foster songs on the boat ride (described in Fireside Chat 412) and you dragged me to their patriotic concert on Memorial Day in Schenley Park ….”

“They are pretty good, Brian,” Justin told him. “Susanna gets a bit squeaky from time to time but otherwise, I like listening to them for a reasonable period of time ….”

“Well, Honey,” Brian asked, “you know at least as well as I do that Malcolm is looking for some folk singers for that show he’s preparing at the Community Theater – and you didn’t mention it to Suzy and Lucius …?”

“Well I didn’t need to, Kinney,” Justin pointed out, “because you did that very bit of meddling yourself and gave them Malcolm’s phone number and encouraged them to contact him….”

“So what’s the matter, Baby?” Brian was puzzled. “Are they too good for Malcolm’s show – or not good enough?”

“Nope,” Justin admitted, “I think they’ll be perfect. I think your meddling will work out well for everybody ….”

“But you are the super meddler, Sunshine,” Brian persevered, “and you weren’t about to do any meddling there. You gonna tell me why?”

“Maybe it’s just that we’re getting too close to the Herrings and their gang,” Justin said. “We might be getting invited to the rivers more often.”

”You could stand it, Babe,” Brian advised him. “More spaghetti to eat. More sauce to bring home ….”

“I’ll bet you Malcolm gets invited along next year,” Justin proposed.

“So what, Kiddo, you like Malcolm,” Brian started and then seemed to see a light-bulb flash. “Wait a minute, JT. Malcolm will like the spaghetti – and the sauce. Geez – what a disaster ….”

“That’s why us meddlers have to think things through before we meddle, BK,” Justin smiled at him faintly.

“OK, Baby,” Brian told him. “I’m gonna make it up to you. I have a busy week coming up but I’ll clear the week-end and you can pick out whatever Italian restaurant you want and we’ll be there ….”

”Gee whiz, Bri,” Justin replied. “That works out great. Dave and Wendell need us up in New York next weekend and we’re supposed to have dinner with them and the soap opera guys. They need some advice ….”

”And when were you gonna tell me about all this, Taylor?” Brian asked with a trace of edge in his voice. “I bet the reservations are already made ….”

“Reservations can be cancelled, Brian Kinney,” Justin defended himself, “and you know we couldn’t go if you couldn’t get away. I was just like – waiting for a good time to bring up the subject ….”

“A likely story,” Brian told him.

“Can I say one more thing before you get mad, Bri?” Justin slid a little closer to the taller guy on his left.

“I guess so – if you think it will help,” Brian conceded.

“Time-out,” Justin called.
 

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